#hopw he dies

[zer0-g]

Great news everyone!

Charles 3 is on his way out!

[tillman]

Another for the “why do zato fans try so hard to make him suave and cool and edgy when he says shit like this” pile.

[notwaitinginthecorner]

Also thinking abt the fact tht at my age both these ppl were running around like rats in the street doing God knows what. Nigga you can't even go back to your own country or legally exist in this one without getting into trouble. But okay I'm disrespectful

[devotedlystrangewizard]

stepdad asked why "straight people dont get a day" 1 dead (him)

[sintiva]

Ooooo CONNIE CONFESSING HIS FEELINGS TO YOU WHILE HIGH PLSPLSPLS I NEED IT PLS

MY KINGGGG, i haven’t written for him in so long, so i hopw this is okay 😭

content: they’re both high, a cute confession, connie rambles when high

connie’s been waiting for ages to tell you how he’s felt. every time the words burn at the tip of his tongue in anticipation to get out of his mouth; he does a big inhale to swallow them back. but not this time, this time it would be different — it had to be! so as he swirls the blunt in between his fingers. flutters his eyes shut as the smoke creeps it’s way into his lungs. he grimmaces as the burning herb sneaks up his nose, and burns right in his sinus area. hand flying to his mouth to hold back a cough from a terrible pull. his nerves made his breaths deeper and his body antsy.

he sits, eyes flicking back and forth as he avoids your gaze. he can feel your eyes burning holes into the sides of his head. but this is his time to shine. he has to do it now, or else you’ll be gone in the blink of an eye. tired of waiting for a confession that wasn’t promised, but it was on its way.

connie

he taps his fingers against his thigh as it bounces. the blunt lays still between his fingers; ash drifting to your carpet, bits of it flake off and fall on your bean bag.

connn’

hmm, his mind stills, but his heart beats a ferocious rhythm in his chest as he plans on his confession. something simple that’ll still strum at the strings of your heart — maybe if you aren’t too high — then his feelings of “one-sided” pining would have a chance at being well received.

the burning embers still, and the slim line of red that wraps around the blunts end is out. connie’s grey eyes are lazily staring into yours. the whites of them red and laced with a desire so vast he can not formulate the right words. his head feels fuzzy, eyes scoping in on every single individual aspect on your face. your lips, eyebrows, lashes; then your tongue that pokes at your cheek when you’re anxious.

“connie! you’re not listening! you’ve got ash all over my fucking floor and bean bag.” your fist ball up on his knees and now your hovering over him as you scowl at him. “how are you gonna clean this shit, y’know it gets messy.” you whine and rock back onto your heels.

then somehow your stumbling onto his lap, entranced by a smirk and his light-airy persona. then he’s cupping your cheek, and smacking his lips against yours. sucking your tongue and dropping the blunt onto your carpet; ashes every. fucking. where. he pulls away, utterly stricken with that crazy phenomena that makes a person want to get on one knee cause they’re that in love with you. “fuck,” he runs the back of his hand against his lips that’s now sticky with mint lipgloss, “i’ve always wanted to do that.”

you smack your lips, let out a gasp, and then you’re letting out teeny giggles that make con’s heart burst. “yeah? you’ve been thinking about that all this time?”

“if it wasn’t for the weed, i’d think you’d like me or something.” you chuckle and tap your indexes against his chest. then you cup his cheeks and press the pads of your thumbs against his lips. they quiver before an — i do comes out.

“you… what?” your eyebrows knit together. “i mean, yeah?…i like you, is there a problem with that?”

“is this connie talking, or the weed?”

connie rolls his eyes, and flips your hoodie onto your curls, knowing it’s something you hate cause now your hair is gonna be super frizzy. but before you can say anything; eyes wide and lips posed in agitation, he slides his hand over your mouth and starts off by clearing his throat, “i, connie springer, do in fact have feelings for the girl who mysteriously ended up in my lap. was i not supposed to fall for the girl who i talk to everyday?”

“you’re fine as fuck, i’m not gonna hide from that fact anymore, and i’m tired of acting like i don’t like you. if you wanna take it as the weed talking you can, but i know for a fact that this is how i feel, and i didn’t have the guts to tell you cause when i get with you my head feels all fucked up and i can’t think. but i’ve always been sure of it, and i’m not gonna hide that fact anymore. sure, i’m an idiot, but i can be your idiot <3”.

and just know he said that with the dumbest grin and the softest puppy eyes.

[silentsneezes]

thinking about a chronic stifler /finally/ sneezing unrestrained around their partner because they trust them enough

This as a Remus (wolfstar) fanfic?

i actually had remus in mind when i posted that lol, so i loved getting this request! thank you anon :)

here’s a little 600 word wolfstar drabble, i hopw you enjoy!

As the morning sunrise shines through the window, Remus Lupin stirs, his eyes fluttering open as he lays beside his husband Sirius Black. Their bedroom is a cozy nook, their presence felt in every corner with books and clothes strewn about. Remus’s eyes are heavy with fatigue, but his body wills him awake as his nose twitches. He pulls the covers around him, staying tucked against Sirius as he braces himself for an inevitable sneezing fit.

The days leading up to the full moon always start like this: he wakes with a persistent itch in his nose and eventually succumbs to a sneezing fit- an annoying, but relatively tame side effect of his lycanthropy. Remus rubs the bridge of his nose, trying to hold back quiet, hitching breaths building in his chest. He pinches his nose shut in a futile effort not to wake Sirius, who’s always been a light sleeper. His shoulders shudder as he stifles three sneezes with practiced silence. He feels Sirius stir at the movement, but he’s too busy stifling another torrent of sneezes to care.

“h’ngsxh! hh’gx’t! hh… hngxt!”

“Bless you love,” Sirius murmurs, shifting and looking at Remus with a knowing smile as he acknowledges the inevitable. "Ah, the early morning sneezes," he teases lightly, his voice laced with sleep. "Just nature's way of reminding us that even werewolves are not immune to the joys of spring."

Sirius wraps an arm around Remus’s waist, pulling him closer and feeling a rush of affection for his husband as he notices Remus’s blush.

“Sorry to- ngk! n’xch! to wake you.” Remus is interrupted by two quick stifles, pressing his pointer finger to the base of his nose in an effort to silence them.

“Bless, I don’t mind love.” Sirius yawns, burying his face in Remus’s neck and closing his eyes sleepily. He can feel as Remus’s breath starts hitching again, his chest rising and falling with quick, dramatic gasps. Remus surrenders to the overwhelming itch, pulling his shirt collar over his nose and muffling a series of rapid sneezes against the fabric.

“hh’tSHh- hm’DTSChu! hih- hidT’SHHh! ‘idtHhiew- hTSchh!”

Sirius feels an odd sense of pride at hearing Remus’s unstifled sneezes, even if they were muffled against his shirt. For years, even after relentless teasing, Remus had only ever stifled his sneezes around Sirius, as he did with everyone else. But eventually, Remus started letting sneezes out occasionally as he became more comfortable around Sirius.

It’s an admittedly small change, sure, but Sirius considers it a success. He enjoys being the only person to ever hear Remus Lupin sneeze, as silly as that sounds. It was a sign of Remus’s trust, an admittance of vulnerability reserved solely for his husband.

“Bless you love”

“Tha-hh-hhtSHhew! Thanks”

Sirius rubs Remus’s back gently as his breath starts hitching again, stuck in a cycle of sneezing and hitching. He brushes Remus’s hair out of his eyes, sitting up in bed and wrapping his arms around his husband’s waist.

“Poor thing,” Sirius murmurs quietly, holding Remus comfortingly as he rides out the sneezing fit.

“hHMPtCH! hKSHhiew! hh-hehHDSCHew! F-heh-fuck… hhGN’knt! gX-tsch!”

Sirius grabs a handkerchief from the nightstand, pressing it into Remus’s hand and murmuring, “Bless you Rem.”

Remus gratefully accepts the handkerchief, giving his nose a little blow and leaning back against Sirius’s chest. Sirius runs his fingers through his husband’s hair gently, still half asleep as he holds Remus close.

After a few minutes and many soft “hhM’ptsch!”s muffled into the handkerchief, the fit dies out. Remus eventually drifts back to sleep as Sirius holds him, his nose temporarily giving him some relief.

any comments or tags are appreciated :)

i’m not super happy with how it turned out so i might rewrite it at some point /lh

[chierry]

i hate majima

[penofpenguin]

Hi hi!!!! I read your rules but let me know if you can do this it’s a bit of angst/comfort.

During potions class the ADuce combo accidentally made a potion that trapped MC in there mind (the potion was meant to be a simple brew lord know how they did what they did) so the dorm leaders must go into mcs mind and bring them back in the “drivers seat” MC never told anyone about where there from or there fam so what they see when they enter saddens them. When they first entered they see an MC that looks about 6 guiding them to the first memory. It’s Mc trying to stop a fight between there parents. Following little Mc again they then see Mc trying to take care of there mom and little siblings. The third memory was when mcs mom died, Mc taking on all responsibilities at the age of 14, the final memory they see is an internal one. Mc crying over all the overblots Crowley never helping worry about there siblings it’s all to much. And finally little mc disappeared leaving the mc they all know. Broken crying just wanting a break and true friends. (IM SO SORRY IF THIS IS BAD I HOPW YOU CAN USE THIS! Have a great day!)

Hello!! Thank you for the ask!!

Unfortunately I was only able to do Riddle, Leona and Azul for now so consider this a part 1. I'll probably make part 2 later. I apologize for the inconvenience :(

Content Warnings: Parents fighting, mentions of death

Pairings: Riddle x reader, Leona x reader, Azul x reader

Riddle, Leona and Azul end up in their s/o's mind to get them out of it, but end up learning something about them.

Enjoy!!

Context: You were doing an experiment in the lab with the ADeuce trio and due to something they did, you got stuck inside your mind. ADeuce panick and go to get your lover to come fix this.

"I SWEAR ONCE I HAVE YOUR HEAD ACE-"

Riddle's face turned normal again after eyeing his location. It seemed very unfamiliar from what he read in books. A small child pulled on his clothes.

"Oh...you look alot like Y/n."

The child silently lead him to a memory. Riddle followed and saw a younger version of you trying to stop a fight between your parents. His face was drawn with visible pity. He faced the child.

"Y-your parents never got along...?"

The child spoke no words and continued walking, Riddle following. The next stop was you taking care of your mom and siblings.

"Mom...you'll be alright. I promise." You say in the memory.

Before Riddle could even respond, the child dragged a shocked Riddle to a memory where you were around 14, taking care of your siblings.

"Dinner's ready!!" You say as your siblings run towards you with glee.

Riddle tried to reach into the memory to hold your tired face, only to get dragged by the child once more. He was getting angry with the pulling.

"WOULD YOU REFRAIN FROM PULLING M-"

In front of Riddle was you in the present time, tears flooding your face. You seemed to be mumbling about how everything in NRC was too much.

Riddle felt guilty, as he was one who overblotted and was one of the reasons you felt this way. He turned to see the child only to be met with your eyes.

"Riddle- I- I didn't expect you to-" You stutter. Seeing the memory behind him, you couldn't help but cry. Riddle walked towards you and let you lay on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry...this world is too much my rose. I'm sorry I never knew you were going through all of this." He says softly, wiping your tears away. He was never the best at comfort but he tried. Once you seemed calmed down, he gave a kiss to your cheek.

"How about we go back and have some tea together? I also need to collar Ace and Deuce for their idiocy." He says with a smile.

"Mindless brats causing problems again." He muttered.

Leona looked around sleepily.

"Oi Herbivore! You in here?"

The only response Leona got was a pull on the tail by a child looking like you. He was never fond of kids but this child might just lead him to you.

He followed the child, rolling his eyes and yawning every minute. The child stopped and signalled Leona to look.

He saw you, trying to stop a fight between your parents, siblings on the side, scared.

"Damn." Was all he could say. What can he say? He was shocked. You never told him anything about this. He reached out to the child.

"Yo kid-"

The child just continued walking, ignoring Leona's call. He speechlessly followed.

He was too immersed in the thought of what he saw just now that he bumped into the child, who surprisingly just stood still as they have come to a stop.

"Don't blame anything on yourself mom. I really can handle it! Stay positive you'll be alright!!" You said, a little older than the memory before.

In a blink of an eye, the scenario changed and infront of Leona showed your 14 year-old-self coming home from your duties and going to make dinner for your siblings, who were happy to see you. In the corner of the room, a picture of your mother was hung, a flower atop of it, indiacting your mother has passed away.

"They're only 14...and they're the reason the household goes on..." He muttered.

"I can't do this anymore-" A voice nearby played. Leona followed the voice to see your present self, crying in Ramshackle, rambling about how stressed you felt and how Crowley's doing nothing to help you.

Unlike Riddle, Leona didn't feel pity, but he felt anger. Anger at life for treating you this way. Why you? You didn't deserve it.

"Life's unfair isn't it?" You stood beside him, watching the memory with him. He immediately turned to your side to see your tears coated with tears.

He sighed. That was his line but that wasn't the point. Leona was also not the best at comfort so all he could do was pat your head and give a kiss to your forehead.

"You should have told me you were going through that. Let's go back now, and this time, I'll blackmail the birdbrain. It'll be a fun sight to watch."

"Those two troublesome pathetic souls wasting my time again." He angrily rambled as he walked around.

"My pearl? Darling?"

A child came running to his call. Azul eyed the child until he came up with a conclusion this child is either you or related to you.

The child tugged onto his coat and pointed right. Azul saw this and curiously walked towards the pointed destination.

It was a memory of you, stopping your parents from arguing and fighting. Azul couldn't help but feel pity. His parents are divorced so he knows the pain.

The child grabbed his hand and pulled him away to another stop as Azul wouldn't leave this scenario and keep giving pitiful looks to it.

The next destination was a scenario of you catering to your mother, who wasn't in the healthiest position.

"This scenario is very self-explanatory. My poor beloved pearl was the breadwinner-"

The child, getting bored with his talking grabbed him and took him away in an attempt to shut him up.

Of course, Azul was taking your situation very seriously, but how could he show that to a child.

This stop was alot similar to the previous one, except your mother was gone. There you stood, a solid 14 year old, playing with your siblings whilst memorising your given homework.

This got to Azul's heart. Seeing you in pain that he can't fix made him not only feel slightly powerless, but also made him feel deeply bad for you.

"Are we done dear child?" He asked, wanting to leave and not see you suffer for any longer.

The child nodded and pointed to a memory near the end. Azul quickly walked towards it to find you, in NRC, crying about the stress and anxiety Crowley and the overblot situations give you.

He felt a pang of guilt, which he hated. He hated showing that side to you. But you still accepted him and loved him despite everything he accidentally or intentionally put you through.

A tear slowly escaped his cheek, but a hand wiped it away for him. He turned to see you in the flesh.

"Don't feel sorry Azul." You painfully said, slightly trembling. Azul grabbed you into a hug. He gave you pats on your head and back as you cried everything out to him. Multiple kisses landed on your head too.

"Calm down my pearl....please. Listen, you're welcome anytime to my office. Oh, and as for some small mischief, why don't I blackmail the principal saying I have you and I won't give you back. I mean...it is true is it not~"

[silver-wield]

ZA anon here!! rather than meta aerith im just basing it off the ending scene of CC, where when we see Z dying and thinking of aerith we see her praying in her church and then almost sensing that zack is about to die soon, looking up at the sky as it starts to rain. in og she says she thinks Z left her for some other girl but it seems to me she was in denial and would rather have zack leave her than be rlly dead. either if they ever reunite, i hopw she’ll know he tried to get to her 😭😭

Ah I’ve not see CC yet. I keep meaning to when I’ve got a minute but every time I go to youtube there’s analysis vids I wanna do instead lol

Ok, so just trying to figure out the time line because we saw a version of Zack in Remake and it’s messing with my head lol

Ok, so yeah, Aerith’s Zack in Remake definitely died, but then she’s got no idea how he died, only that he went missing and it wouldn’t have any relation to Sephiroth. She’d have to know about Nibelheim events and she doesn’t. 

OG just swept Zack under the carpet once it was done establishing him as a bait and switch plot mechanic, and since they’ve retconned that I’d just ignore it as a stupid statement.

Yeah, I don’t think the idea works unless Aerith’s got knowledge she shouldn’t have. Either she’s meta!Aerith and knows how Zack died or she isn’t and that scene makes no sense.

Actually, it just makes no sense without the meta element. 

Aerith’s hearing about Sephiroth, the hero, and then she gets all down about it. Why? It must be because she knows something she shouldn’t. Which means she’s meta!Aerith. 

[brightmalcolm]

Remember hopw they said that Jessica sharing the bracelet would unintended consequences I get eve arrived and lied(understandably)to find the truth but I dont think she was a consequence I think Nicholas is. Jessica is invited to his event where he then seeks her out, I think he saw her release the bracelet to press and is now wanted to found out what she knows ie if she found the owner

I think the unintended consequence was it triggered the man in episode 15 whose wife died under martin’s care to kidnap and kill people? but it also might have been what drew eve back to the whitly’s after malcolm’s night terrors scared her off so it could be a lot of things.

[sakhafa]

me: I’m such a forgiving and pure hearted person....can’t ever hate......can’t ever hold a grudge.....all that’s there is Love

also me: I hope the fucking life guard from the Ras Sedr trip in 2005 fucking rots in hell for not bothering to save my struggling ass in the pool :)

[grogingtonnotclothedd]

*after Tommy 'dies' and Tubbo and Ranboo are making him a shrine*

Ranboo, crying: I hopw he likes flowers.

Tubbo: he must be looking up at us, admiring our strength.

Ranboo, confused: wouldn't he be looking down from heaven?

Tubbo: oh no, that bitch is definitely in hell.

[matthewjonesresearch]

Bruce Nauman (Continued)

In the 1980s, Nauman made a series of works that evoke absent bodies, using a chair that he said “would somehow become the figure.” Here a pair of steel girders hang from the ceiling and support three chairs, while a fourth chair dangles just beyond the armature’s reach. Suspended at eye level, the massive I-beams encroach on the viewer’s space, affording no clear view of the sculpture as a whole. The toppled chairs are rendered useless, and none appear to be completely intact, their missing legs and sunken seats suggesting something gone awry.

The work’s title "White Anger, Red Danger, Yellow Peril, Black Death" (1984) (Pictured Top of the Four Images,) strikes an ominous note, pointing to the recurring role of color in metaphors for anxiety and grim events, from anticommunist paranoia to outbreaks of disease. The four hues are also crude and bigoted terms for antiquated racial categories, so that the sculpture functions as a silent, forceful reminder of long histories of violence. If the chairs in Nauman’s work indeed stand in for people, injured and divided, the sculpture posits a dim view of civic life and our relations with one another.

These works interest me and I like hopw the idea of visual representation of one's self can be viewed as an object, a piece of furniture that many are not gratefukl for but just expect. I'd like to follow this into my own art practice. I also love the dis-orientated feelings of the chairs within the works as none seem to appear to be posistioned at a 'normal' angle.

28.04.20

[thankyoumskobayashi]

to expand on my morning half-asleep rant, emu definitely should have hugged pallad. im probably less coherent abt this now, but i will try to explain myself now.

after hyper healing or whatever, pallad cancels his henshin. emu does too and steps forward, hesitantly at first, then hugs pallad tightly.

pallad is tense at first, bc he doesn't know what's going on. he looks down at emu's face for cues and emu's eyes are closed. his face is scrunched up w determination a bit and he's biting his tongue bc he hopws it'll work.

pallad can hear all of emu's hopes, thoughts from their soulmate au bond virus/patient tensai gaymer bond. he wants pallad to return the hug, to accept emu as his lover and ally. 

he slowly, hesitantly puts his arms around emu and leans fown to rest his head agai st emu's (which is resting against his shoulder).

pallad feels safe and warm in emu's arms and that's all i care abt in this fic. this one scene s worth more to m than all of the episode where pallad dies.

of course pallad can't stop hugging emu after this. he's that hug-happy bf who just follows emu around while hugging him.

[janiklandre-blog]

Monday, March 27, 2017

a rainy Monday - 9:30 a.m.  computer room - one week from today the cataract op - cannot deny being nervous - and coming here, computer opening, feels almost like a miracle.

Yesterday - it must have been in October or so that I found out that a park friend was in a hospital in New Jersey. Bill F. goes back many years - he loves dogs, his own dog had died and he had taken to walking dogs, a little extra income. Came to nyc from Chicago - some 50 years ago? - a young actor, had an acting careers, arill was doing voice overs when I met him, also I believe some advertising work - in those early years his intrerest was Rick - also from Chicago, about the same age - a photographer who had done fashion in Milan, Italy bujtwas one of those who fell in love with the red tailed hawk, Palemale -Palemale.com will tell you a lot about him - the first hawk to take up residence on a nyc apartment building, where among other Mary Tyler Moore lived - a friend of the hawk - there are two movies about the hawk, a book, a lot of writing - this is in Central Park, off East 72nd Street, above a little pond, the bench where Rick came for years and years, day in, day out, peddled some of his photographs, set up two telescopes, became the center of a small community - he also was an astronomer - and with endless patience talked about the hawks. We all loved him - many brought him cake - that may have contributed to his sudden heart attack that killed him - three years ago?

Rick was Bill's fast friend - he had little interest in me in these days - he came to talk to Rick. Only since Rick died he also began talking to me - and with my never ending interest for people - for which I am most grateful - I always find out their histories - and we had not gotten very close, but closer.

Like so many of us he had his tenant drama - he loves showing photographs on his tablet - his apartment in a corner house somewhere on 2nd Avenue in the 70's was lovely, he had put a lot of work into it, lived there for some 40 years - when as so many houses in nyc his house was sold, and bought  by a group with the intention of demolishing a few houses and building a high rise - as they already have done on East End Avenue. also in the 70's and they offered him a great new apartment there, at the same rent he had been paying - a lot better than so many fare who are just harrassed out of their housing - Bill was reluctant, finally accepted and worked hard last August on the move - and when I finally visited him yesterday in a place called Isabella House - I at last found out the details. He had gone to the hospital, fainted, was two weeks in a coma and now, dresdful operations later, he is in this rehab. Very happy to see me. Different from the Bill I met more than ten years ago.

As it happens I know Isabella House - it was where the third wife of Robert G. - Janet Pincus - mentioned earlier, not favorably - had moved his mother, Tamina, about whom I have written also - I first met 1953 - came to visit her at Isabella House in the 90's when at last we came to appreciate each other.

Isabella House is a huge complex at 515 Audobon Avenue - on the corner of 190th street. Tamina had lived since the 1920's on 171st street, Washington Heights - still, she was very unhappy with being moved - but - she was a positive thinker, always singing a happy song - that is what she turned the radio on to when she got up early to tend to her palace - a large apartment, big rooms, seven - and was helped by a lovely woman who came from the same Northern region of Germany - Bremen - where she had come from. They were close in age and shared a dialect - and were great companions who had shared a life. Few visited Tamina in Isabella House - she was given one furnished room - the glory of the place: Kissinger;s mother was there.

The number 1 subway goes to 190th Street, where it is deep underground and a long elevator ride takes you to the surface. One day I discovered that the number 3 bus that leaves a few minutes from house on Astor Place goes to Fort George at the tip of Manhattan and uses St.Nicholas Avenue at 190th street - one block away from Audobon Avenue - a long and scenic ride. Once I knew Bill was there I planned to take it - was postponing it - yesterday decided it was the day and spent some four hours on buses and close to three hours with Bill - we had a most congenial meeting - even though we don't see eye to eye on some thnings - but we never have let that matter. 

As time goes on I do get to hear of more and more medical stories - and my getting old and older is beginning to involve me in my own, Still - his is so complex - it started before I met him with a kidney with what it sounds to me not a great problem - that ended up being removed - reinforcing my belief how tgerribly dangerous doctors are - and that by now has led to horrific complications - and I only hopw to be able bvefore too long to visit him on East End Avenue - and meet him again in the park. he has quite a way to go - and since he so appreciated my visit -  may make it up there again.

So, this was my day yesterday - well it was close to 5 p.m. when I got back home - do plan on number 6 train to 125th street and there I found out passes the 101, even closer to my house that I never knew goes up there too. A bit less tedious - used to walk to to the number 1 subway on Sheridan Square - now, with disfunctional gaiit too far.Buses!

Well, by 8 p.m. I still joined a friend at a bsr on East 7th street, 75 East 7th, never had noticed it - some writers reading too young for me. Sex, sex, sex - alas noty much part of my life these days. I left before my friend left.

Still, earlier in the day, while waiting for the number 3 bus - a schedule tells you when it is supposed to arrive but it is nowhere within sight - I was dwelling on the topic "respect for the old" - that many of us find so often lacking. What forever annoys me on Astor place - there can be five buses standing, I pass them - but passengers must stand in rain and wind and wait for the bus to come. Unthinkeable in Europe - when there is an empty bus waiting, you can sit down. At one time in the Villager it said buses on Astor place would also allow passengers to sit in them - but no way. When they are about to leave you have to make a fast dash to catch them. And always three of them leave at the same time. Zero respect for passengers. Long waits. Some will tell me write to the MTA - but such letteers have so little effect.

Respect. I remember when when the word "dissed" came into use - for disrespected - I don't hear it much any more. I specially remember one young woman often using it, complaining abour being "dissed" - she was a squatter who had grown up in some slummy part of Boston and now as far as I know is living happily ever after in England.

Those of you who have been reading these here musings know how the granddaughter of Dorothy Day brought this to my attention and my mulling over it. I'm still mulling and suddenly seeing disrespect all around me as my once upon a time squatter friend did - we took walks of miles and miles and miles together. Marylou. One of so many people I miss. She who had grown up in a slum - Irish Catholic - and had experienced so much disrespect in her life - she was a strong believer in - not just taking it. She was not afraid of confrontation - she had her wayh of dealing with conflict - that I have come to realize. I lack. Obviously as I so often point out - growing up scorned in the Hitler years and - also watching my parents being totally powerless to protest the terrible injustice done to them - has turned me into a creature not well equipt to deal with being "dissed".

I realize how much it annoys me - and yet much of the advice also is, stand above it, ignore it, don't dignify a silly annoyance with a response. Still, I now also think of the reactions of others - and I'm very glad Paco was told split, when you feel anger rising - and this is also something I've been doing - and now also remember my friend Helen who died not long ago, objexcting to to this mode  - she did like to criticise - and chided me for never wanting to deal with any of her criticism. Yet she, a survivor of Auschwitz, was an angry woman - generous to a fault - still, you felt the smoldering anger. I did not want to deal with it. 

Friends who insist on telling you the truth - not a mode I enjoy. Good friends should be able to point out mistakes - yet it is terribly hard to do it the right way - and when someone insults you who in relation to you has a lot more power - how do you deal with that.

Often a good response comes to me only much later - but - in the case of someone insulting you and then runnning away - well - luckily - a new mode in my life. Really low, if you ask me.

It's 11 a.m. No call, no message - a few words with the woman at Moishe's bakery - thank God for the computer! - and asking myself, should I find ways to get the ASUS or should I learn to use the ipad I will soon have had for a year - Bill whom I visited uses his extensively and exclusively - I did buy to replace my laptop and most of the time I do seem to have access to this here computer - and then I could cancel the $17 a month I have been paying for the wifi I have not used for a couple of years now - oh modern technology - and yes, on Saturday, the printer here suddenly started printing what I was writing without me fiving any kind of command - I thought someone was activating it long distance - and when I woke at 4:46 a.m.and tried to open my iphone to get the time - first it would not open and then came up with the craziest of stuff - now it seems to have returned to siome normalcy - well - as I said long ago, computeers are allowed to down - but not humans.  Adios. Off to the Polish church. Marianne